


Fridays and the Days in Between Them

by spacekidmax



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Closeted Character, Clubbing, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Panic Attacks, Underage Drinking, and he DESERVES it goddamnit!, author has never even fucking been in a nightclub give me some credit here, author has no idea how ordering shots works, does this count as a meetcute if they already know each other in a different context, doing shots, is this an AU or do we just not see this in game, my boys are idiots and i love them, pretty much all fluff lmao, reformed travis, so much fucking flirting, someone give me credit for not writing something horribly angsty for fucking once, travis actually has some fucking fun for once in his life, written on a diet of steady club music capri sun and coffee, you tell me man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-21 06:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19997377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacekidmax/pseuds/spacekidmax
Summary: Travis Phelps is a loner. Someone not to fuck with. The type of kid that the freshman tell stories about the fights he's gotten into, even though it's been a few years since he went off on someone who didn't really deserve it. But he's got a little secret. Every Friday, another side of him comes out, and he can drop the intimidating loner act to finally be himself. But what happens when he runs into someone who only knows him as a loner, someone who used to make their life hell? How do they view the new him?





	Fridays and the Days in Between Them

It was Friday, 3:15 PM, and Travis was absolutely giddy. He couldn’t show it, he had a reputation as a loner, someone not to fuck with, so, to onlookers, it seemed like he was sulking in his seat on the school bus, his mind was racing. Fridays were the only times he felt alive. Because they were the only times he could have fun. For the most part, he slogged through life, brooding and angry, keeping to himself these days, not fucking with anyone, but not letting anyone fuck with him, because he knew “being himself” was something he’d be harshly punished for. But on Fridays, he could be himself, and no one he knew would see. 

The bus pulled up to his stop, and he forced himself not to smile as he got off and walked to his house. He unlocked the front door, and once it was safely shut behind him, burst out in a grin. He abandoned his schoolbag in the hall, racing to his room, knowing he was home alone. His father was always working at the church, and wouldn’t be home until five. Travis would be long gone by then. Flinging open the door to his closet, he cleared a pile of clothes strewn purposefully haphazardly on its floor, to reveal a plain black backpack, one he’d used for school for a few years until one of its straps broke. This seemingly ordinary object was the key to his happiness, because of the secrets it held inside. Ever since he’d finally persuaded his father to let him get a job, since, being a senior, he was finally considered mature enough for it, he’d been carefully spending what he earned, allotting portions small enough that his father wouldn’t notice, to spend in drugstores and thrift shops. Meticulously checking the stores to make sure no one he knew was in them when he made his purchases. Buying lipsticks and crop tops, eyeshadow pallets and brightly colored skinny jeans. 

Because on Fridays, his father thought he was at work, and his work thought it was his day off to help his father do church things. On Fridays, he left the house at four o’clock, through the back door, crossing through the yard of the house next door, that had been vacant for months, to get to the bus station. On Fridays, he took the 4:15 bus to a neighboring town, seven stops, every time. On Fridays, he spent the afternoon and evening, with a fake id that took two months to save up for, dancing and drinking his heart out at the only gay bar in the area. The same gay bar that his father had forced him to join in protests against several times, every time hoping to God, if he even existed, that no one within would recognize him. On Fridays, he could finally accept himself, and be around other people who accepted themselves, and were freely, and wonderfully, gay. He could flirt with guys, people who he was actually attracted to. He could grind up against hot boys on the dance floor, listening to club music with way too loud bass, and repetitive vocals. He could finally fucking feel something that wasn’t anger or apathy.

He opened his backpack, dumping out the main pocket onto his bed. He didn’t have much, only about five shirts and three pairs of pants, plus a pair of jean shorts that barely covered his ass, and a mini skirt that he was too scared to wear out in public, and a handful of accessories, including a pair of light pink heart-shaped fake glasses, that he wore every time he went out, just for a little more assurance that he wouldn’t be recognized. He decided today was the day for the skirt though, it had been a hell of a week, and Goddamnit, he looked hot in it. It was mint green and went really well with his favorite crop top, a long sleeve made entirely of black lace flowers, with a built-in black tank top. To finish it off, one of the few things he’d splurged on and not bought second-hand, a pair of lilac fishnets he’d bought from the Hot Topic in the local mall, even though being in such a Satanic store had given him anxiety beyond bounds. He knew it shouldn’t have, aware at this point that pretty much everything his father preached was wrong, but still got bad vibes from that place. Perhaps it would be something he’d accept in time. He’d only been in there twice, once to buy the tights, and another to look at dresses, as they had some of the prettiest pastel things there. He didn’t end of buying any, they were all much too expensive, but he’d had fun trying them on.

Once he’d gotten dressed, he did his makeup. Foundation and concealer to cover up the fading bruises inflicted upon him by his father, to whom he couldn’t do anything right, plus silver eyeshadow, bronzer, and light pink lipstick. He grabbed a tube out of the front pocket of his backpack and worked styling cream through his blonde hair until it was delightfully curly. He slipped on the plain black flats that sat at the bottom of his bag, grabbed his phone from the pocket of his discarded jeans and he was ready. 3:53, seven minutes early. He twirled, laughing as his skirt billowed around him, and checked his makeup one last time before slipping his lipstick, his fake id, and his phone into the pocket of his skirt. He sighed and wished he could do this all the time. He was so happy like this. He packed all of his makeup and clothing back into the black bag, putting it back onto his closet floor and throwing normal clothes on top of it to hide its existence. He was thankful that his father wasn’t the type to disregard his privacy too much and look through his things, and was arrogant enough to think he’d notice if something was up with him. Taking one last look to make sure everything was in place, he left his bedroom, noticing how his skirt flowed as he walked and feeling both happy and nervous to go out in public in a skirt for the first time.

Once he was sure everything was back in place, he grabbed the clothes he had worn to school, and put them into a drawstring bag, which he took with him as he exited the house through the back door. He climbed over the fence of the house next door, the one the had a perpetual “for sale” sign in the front yard, and no one actually looking to buy it, and dropped his bag in the corner, like he always did. Once he got back, it would be dark enough that his father wouldn’t be able to see him get changed quickly behind the fence, and wipe his makeup off with baby wipes he kept in the bag. He crossed the yard and climbed back over the fence, making his way to the nearby bus station, glancing around everywhere to make sure no one that might recognize him was out. The bus arrived, and he got on, heading to the back where almost no one was sitting. The ride passed without incident, though he did hear someone mutter “fag” as he got off. He just ignored them, there were a lot of shitty people around here, hell, he had to pretend to be one of them the other six days of the week. The club was only a few blocks away from the bus stop, but he already felt freer here. While it wasn’t a major city, there were so many more people here that he felt like he could just walk around without having to double-check every five seconds that he wouldn’t run into anyone he knew, or worry about sticking out of the crowd.

He could hear the music pumping as he approached the club, and smiled to himself. He handed his id to the bouncer, who examined it before letting Bailey Allyn Munson, aged 22, inside. What, if he couldn’t use his real name, being paranoid that someone would make a connection to his father, he could at least make his fake name interesting. The place was dark, colored spotlights illuminating the dance floor just enough to make sure no one ran into each other, and dim lightbulbs surrounding a mirror that stretched the length of the bar so that the bartenders could read the labels of the alcohol they were serving. He loved that about this place, it gave it a certain sense of anonymity, because you could be dancing twenty feet away from someone you saw on a daily basis and never know.

Travis headed straight for the bar, ordering a couple of shots of tequila to loosen him up a little. He downed each one, wincing a little after, but not nearly as bad as he had when he first started coming here. Ah, that was better. He could feel the music reverberating inside him, calling him onto the dance floor, and who was he to refuse? Even though it was early, just barely five o’clock, the floor was packed, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it that way. He started on the outside of the crowd, but soon made his way closer to the center, all of the songs blurring together with upbeat lyrics and fast beats that made you want to flail your arms around like a maniac. So he did. He could’ve been dancing for fifteen minutes or fifty when he felt something brush up against his cheek, right where there was a bruise hiding under layers of makeup. Though it made him wince, it wasn’t an unusual feeling with the dance floor being this packed, but he turned to look, and realized that the stranger dancing next to him had just gotten a ton of his foundation and bronzer on the sleeve of their light-colored crop top, and hadn’t seemed to notice. He lightly tapped on their shoulder and they turned to face him.

Though it was dark enough to barely be able to make out anything about the stranger’s appearance, he could tell they were wearing some kind of mask. It must have been some kind of subculture thing, Travis didn’t know a whole lot about underground club fashion. They had long, dark hair up in a messy bun, with a couple of strands sticking out, framing their face. They were wearing a crop top, probably white, or maybe a really light pastel, with bell sleeves and some kind of black writing on it, with dark, ripped skinny jeans. They gave him a wave, and he tried to tell them that they’d gotten foundation on their shirt, but the music was too loud. They eventually motioned for him to follow them off of the dance floor, towards the genderless bathrooms, the only source of decent lighting in the whole club, as well as being far enough from the floor that you could hear someone speak if they were right next to you.

As the two of them made their way off of the dance floor, Travis repeated himself about the makeup on their shirt, and they nodded. He heard them say something, but he couldn’t make it out. Their voice was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place exactly where he’d heard it. Maybe he’d seen them at the club before.

“What was that? Sorry, it’s so loud here.”

“It’s okay, it happens all the time. I actually have a stain remover stick in my pocket because every time I wear this cursed shirt out, I get someone’s lipstick on it, or I spill alcohol on myself, or something of that sort. It’s not your fault, thanks for telling me though. It’ll be a lot easier to get off now than if I hadn’t noticed it until when I got home.”

“It’s no problem. I’m gonna check how bad my makeup is in the bathroom. Ugh, I knew I should’ve brought my bronzer with me, all I have is my lipstick.”

“Yeah, I’d help you out, but as you can probably tell, I’m not much of a makeup person. Maybe someone in the bathroom will have some bronzer you can borrow if it’s fucked up.”

“Let’s hope. You’re pretty cute, by the way. What’s your name? I’m Bailey.”

He always used his fake name when talking to people at the club, partially out of fear of being recognized from his real one, and partially because he just preferred it to his real one. He liked thinking that the person he was when he was out dancing was a completely different entity then who he was normally. That Travis, the mean, homophobic, loner church boy was just a mask for Bailey, the fashionable, extroverted, always tipsy, gay boy to wear in public. The stranger took a moment to respond, and he was afraid he’d said something wrong, until the door to the bathroom swung open as someone exited, and they were briefly illuminated. And at that second, they spoke, just as he finally recognized him.

“Sal.”

Travis stopped dead in his tracks, mouth agape, and Sal turned their head to look at him.

“Well, aren’t you coming?”

“I-I. Fuck.”

“Wow, did you actually not recognize me? Man, I thought everyone knew this plastic face by now.”

Sal was laughing a little at Travis’ shocked state, and he was wondering how they could just be so chill with the situation. They turned fully to face him, seemingly completely relaxed.

“Sal.”

“Bailey.”

“That’s not my real name, and you know it.”

“It’s your real name if it’s the one you want to go by.”

“No, I, fuck. I don’t know. Travis works.”

“Alright, up to you.”

“Shit, man. I, I don’t know what to say. I know we haven’t really spoken in a year or two, but I’m sorry for being such a dick to you back in freshman and sophomore year.”

“Nah, it’s all good. I know you were going through shit. I’m glad you seem to have gotten through it. You look good, happier than normal.”

“How- how did you know I was going through shit?”

“Remember the day in the bathroom? The last time we spoke?”

“Yeah, when I told you I didn’t actually hate you or any of your friends. It was kind of a wake-up call for me, showed me how much of a dumbass I was being, so I decided to leave you guys alone after that.”

“Well, the whole reason I asked you if you were crying was that I found your letter by the trash, and I was curious. I’m really sorry that I read it, it was kind of a shitty thing to do. I didn’t tell anyone about it.”

“Oh. Yeah. That.”

“Look, I know I’m being a kind of nosy bastard here, but did you ever tell the person how you felt?”

“No, uh, it was just a, um, dumb teenage crush. They didn’t like me anyway, there was no way I was going to tell them I had a thing for them.”

“Aw, that sucks. You always seem so down at school, you seem like you could really use someone to cheer you up.”

“Yeah, well, when you decide to stop hanging out with the people that make everyone’s lives miserable, the people whose lives you were helping them to make that way don’t exactly want to befriend you. I tried, a couple times, but it was easier to just be a loner.”

“Shit, man, why did you never take me up on my offer to hang out sometime?”

“Because while you’re a nice person, your friends all want to murder me, and they have good reason to. I was a dick, to them and you, and they didn’t see my one moment of vulnerability that you decided was good enough to redeem me in your eyes.”

“While you have a point, I’m sure I could’ve convinced Larry, Todd, and Ash not to murder you. You’d just have to be introduced slowly. Speaking of them, Ash is actually here with me, she’s somewhere out on the dance floor. I lost her the second we started dancing, that crowd moves like a wave.”

“Yeah, you get used to it. Are you two…”

“No. We’re not a thing. While I love Ash, she’s one of my best friends, she is also very much a lesbian. And also, look at what I’m wearing. Does this look like something a straight person would wear into a gay bar?”

Travis glanced at their outfit, he could now read the words on Sal’s white crop top, which said “don’t fuck with my vibe” in fancy black script. Sal was giggling as Travis studied their outfit, and damn, they looked good.

“Nope, I am detecting no signs of straightness.”

“You look like you put a lot of thought into it.”

“Maybe I was just checking you out.”

The words slipped out before Travis could stop them, and he blushed, not that Sal could tell, seeing as the two of them were standing outside of the bathroom, only illuminated in brief flashes as people entered and exited. He could feel butterflies in his stomach, and pretended they were nerves.

“Oh my god. Were you actually just flirting? Travis Phelps, flirting with me?”

“Shush, I, just, it slipped out.”

“How much have you had to drink?”

The words were teasing, and Travis could feel himself getting more and more flustered.

“I’ve only had a few shots, I’m barely tipsy!”

“Come on, you’re supposed to blame the flirting on the drink, if you really didn’t mean to do it.”

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. Let’s go get that bronzer off your shirt, we’ve been standing out here for ages.”

“I can see you’re purposefully changing the subject, but I am choosing not to comment.”

“Does that not count as commenting?”

Travis was actually teasing back, having a friendly conversation, fuck, flirting, with Sal Fisher. The person he’d had a “dumb teenage crush” on since freshman year! Except he didn’t realize it was a crush back then, because he was still deeply in denial. The two of them headed into the bathroom, the bright lights hurting their eyes, and stood in front of the mirror. Sal grabbed a small stain stick out of their pocket and turning at an odd angle to look at the bronze powder on their shirt.

“Shit, guess you’re right. Does that mean I’m free to comment on it now?”

“I want you to know that you are the worst.”

“If I was, you wouldn’t have put up with me for this long.”

“We’ve been talking for, I don’t know, ten minutes? Less? That’s not exactly a long time to put up with someone.”

“It is when you’re as infuriating as me!”

Sal attempted to brush some of the powder off, but ended up smearing it more.

“You are a disaster. You really don’t know anything about makeup, do you?”

“Look at me for one second and reconsider what you just said.”

“Fair.”

“Though I did attach fake eyelashes to this thing and wear it like that for an entire day.”

“I know, I remember seeing you around school like that. It was hilarious.”

“It was a fashion statement!”

“Really?”

“No, I was sleeping over at Ash’s with Larry and Todd, and Larry dared me to. Ash just happened to have fake eyelashes in her makeup bag, though I know for a fact she never gave that much of a shit about makeup. I’m still convinced the two of them planned the whole thing, even though they vehemently denied it.”

Travis laughed, that was such a dumb thing to do, it was perfect. He wished he’d been there, and then reminded himself that Larry and Ash hated him, and Todd probably did too.

“Your friends are dorks.”

“Hell yeah they are, but they’re my dorks!”

He looked in the mirror, trying to see if his makeup was noticeably messed up, and froze when he realized all of the foundation had been rubbed off of the large, purple and yellow bruise on his cheek.

“Hey, what’s- oh shit, are you okay?”

Fuck, Sal had noticed. He had to make up an excuse, something, anything, how could he have gotten this by accident?

“I, I, uh, I-“

He was breathing quickly, trying to think but nothing was coming to him. He didn’t want Sal to know, didn’t want anyone to know. Didn’t want pity. Didn’t want anyone to care about him. No one had cared about him for a long time, and that was what he was used to. This flirting was nice, but it wasn’t like it was going to continue after tonight.

“Hey, Travis, it’s okay. Just breathe.”

“It’s, I, I don’t know what to say!”

He felt hands on his shoulders, and instinctively flinched. The hands removed themselves, and suddenly he was aching for the touch, for any touch that wasn’t painful. He didn’t know what he wanted.

“Sorry, is it alright if I touch you?”

“I, yes? Yeah.”

He was still hyperventilating, but he felt Sal’s hands rest gently back on his shoulders and tried not to flinch.

“Why don’t we sit down for a second? Everything’s going to be alright.”

He nodded sporadically before sitting down onto the floor, his back up against the wall. Sal was right next to him, and for once, having someone near him didn’t instill fear. He felt like he was about to cry.

“Okay, look at me, mimic my breathing. Slow, deep breaths.”

“Alright.”

He was barely able to squeak out the word, but followed Sal’s breathing. As their chest rose, he forced his to slowly do so as well. A few breaths later, he felt a lot less panicked, and like the world wasn’t going to crash down on him anymore. He still felt a little shaky, but was mostly okay.

“Sorry about that. It just kind of happens sometimes. Thanks for helping me through it.”

“Yeah, panic attacks can be rough.”

“They have a name?”

“They’re actually pretty common.”

“Oh. I’m always too afraid to look up mental health stuff on my phone, my father used to check it, and I don’t know if he still does.”

“Shit, man, that sucks.”

“Yeah, living with him is… not fun.”

“Is he…”

“Yeah. He’s the reason for the bruise if that’s what you were asking. I got scared because I didn’t want you to worry about it, to care about me, but you’ve already seen me fucked up, and I don’t have the energy to give a shit anymore.”

“Why… why didn’t you want me to care?”

“Not used to people caring. I’m a loner. No one cares about me, and I don’t care about anyone. Or at least I try not to.”

“Okay, I’ve made up my mind, I’m forcing you into my friend group, and the other three can get over themselves.”

“This is why I didn’t want to say anything.”

“What?”

“You’re too nice of a person. I’d like to take you up on your offer, but people are going to talk, and word will get back to my father that I’m hanging with the school queers. He, or, well, the church, has eyes everywhere. I’m hiding all this bullshit from him successfully right now, I don’t need a reason to make him suspicious and look through my room. If he finds the clothes or the makeup, he’ll kill me. Like, actually, kill me. He’s threatened it before.”

“Fuck.”

“I wish things were easy.”

“Me too. You deserve to be cared about.”

“Do I? I’m kind of a dick.”

“You were a dick, at one point, but only by circumstance. You’re a good person, Travis. And everyone deserves to be cared about.”

The words felt warm in Travis’ chest, and maybe he could blame it on the drinks he’d had, but he made up his mind.

“You know what? Let’s go do some shots. I’ll think it over. I’ve lived my entire fucking life trying to stay off his bad side, and yet, nothing works. If shit’s gonna suck either way, I may as well have some fun. Only got a few months until school’s over, then I’m free from him anyways.”

“Are you sure you want to mix alcohol and thinking over potentially dangerous decisions?”

“When I said I’ll think about it after I’ve had some shots, I meant I’d already made the decision, but am scared as hell and need the reckless courage drunkenness will grant me to convince me it’s the right one. I’ll join your friend group, if you really want a fuck-up like me, and if your other friends don’t brutally murder me the second they see me in your sight.”

Sal laughed, the sound slightly muffled by their mask.

“Oh, yeah, and Sal, I have kind of a weird question. Well, not weird if it’s true, but weird if it isn’t. I just kind of heard something from some gossip about you, and I wanted to clarify it with you.”

“You’re making me nervous, but go ahead?”

“Is it true that you’re not a boy or a girl?”

“Yes, I am nonbinary if that’s what you meant.”

“Oh, that’s the word for it, I only heard it once and kind of forgot it. What pronouns do you use if you’re… neither, then? I’m sorry if that sounds bad, I’ve just never really encountered any of this. If my father checked my phone and found out I was looking at queer shit…”

“I use they/them pronouns, and it’s okay. Hell, I’m the only nonbinary person I know, at least in real life.”

“Oh, okay, thanks. That was what I was using in my head anyways.”

“You were using my preferred pronouns in your head without me even having to tell you?”

“Yeah, is that weird?”

“No, it’s… nice. It makes me happy that once you heard that I was nonbinary, you just switched. I’ve had some, issues, with getting some people to actually use them. None of my friends, just people around school and that kind of thing.”

“Ugh, people are shitty. Well, with that out of the way, let’s go do some shots. I’ll buy.”

“First flirting with me, now buying me shots? Travis Phelps, is this a date?”

Travis was sure that he was blushing hard at that, but tried to play it off.

“Keep giving me sass and you’re buying your own shots.”

“Okay, okay, let’s go.”

The two of them finally got up off of the bathroom floor, feeling slightly awkward that they’d been there that long, but it was a gay club, so it wasn’t like anyone was really paying attention to two losers flirting on the bathroom floor. They left the bathroom, and damn, it was really dark in the club. They stopped for a second to let their eyes adjust.

“Holy shit, I can’t see at all. Was it always this dark?”

Travis laughed.

“Yeah, that’s something you never really get used to here, just how dark the main space is versus how bright the bathrooms are.”

“Oh, do you come here often?”

“Hell yeah, I do. This has been my home every Friday after school ever since, shit, October? November? I don’t remember exactly, but as soon as I got my fake id, I started showing up here.”

“Damn, is this the only gay club in the area?”

“I have no idea. I found out about this place last year when my father forced me into a protest against its existence. I bet he’d shit himself if he knew that’s how and where I spend my Friday nights when he thinks I’m at work.”

“Where do you work?”

“That little Christian bookstore in town, the one you never see anyone go into or leave. I have no fucking idea how the owner keeps it open.”

“Maybe it’s a drug front?”

“Nah, I work with the owner 90 percent of the time and he’s like a super devout Christian, an associate of my father. I think I’m the only employee there.”

“Aw, that would’ve been interesting. Do you come here every Friday?”

“Yeah, I requested Friday nights off to do church things when I first started working there, and instead, I started coming here and committing at least three sins a night. But fuck it, the job pays well, and it’s probably the only place Father would let me work, too afraid of me being corrupted by the outside world. But damn, if he really wanted that, he wouldn’t have sent me to public school.”

Sal laughed as they made their way back to the bar.

“Damn, that is… probably the best-executed hypocrisy I have ever seen. I’ve gotta buy you a drink for that alone.”

“I already said I’m buying our first round, I have a tab here.”

“What if I buy you a singular hypocrisy shot, and then you can buy our first official round to do together?”

“Sounds like a deal to me.”

The two of them sat down at the bar and looked at the menu, a chalkboard hung over a part of the bar-length mirror, listing various drinks and what was in them, as a bartender chatted with someone at the other end of the bar.

“So, Trav, what do you think you’re gonna get?”

“I don’t know, I’m usually a plain tequila kind of guy, but since this is my celebration of hypocrisy shot, I feel like I should make it something special.”

“What about for our round?”

“You can choose that one, I’m not picky. As long as it’s not straight fucking vodka or something like that, I’m good with most things.”

Travis debated between two choices, one with Irish Cream and one with cherry vodka, until the bartender approached them.

“Hey, Bailey, back for more tequila? And who’s this on your arm?”

Travis was startled for a moment before he remembered she was addressing him by his fake name. The bartender, Benita, was a punky college girl with a light purple pixie cut and a nose ring, who he’d made pretty close acquaintances with after coming here routinely for so long. He liked her, they’d bonded over both having Peruvian moms.

“Hey Benny, nah, I am being bought a celebratory shot by Sal here, they’re an old friend of mine, and then we’re doing some rounds together.”

“Sounds rad, my man! Sal, I like your hair, it is a kickass color. So, what’ll you two be having?”

“I think I will take a White Gummy Bear for my celebratory shot, and what do you think for our round?”

“I’m liking the look of the Alice in Wonderland, just crazy enough for the two of us.”

“Alright, I’ll bring you two your drinks in a few!”

“Sounds good, Benny.”

Benita went off to go mix their drinks and Travis turned to Sal.

“You know, I’ve had most of the drinks on their specialty shots menu, but the Alice in Wonderland has always sounded so crazy that I’ve been put off spending the money on it. Orange liquor, tequila, and coffee liquor? This is either going to be really good, or really bad.”

“Just think of it as me broadening your horizons! Seeing as your celebratory shot is just going to taste like a fruit drink, we need something crazy.”

“Sure, if you say so.”

“It’ll be fun, trying something neither of us has ever had before.”

“You are such a dork.”

The sentence was said with affection, but before Sal could ask him if that counted as flirting, Benny was back with the celebratory shot and their first round. Travis lifted up his White Gummy Bear, and Sal smiled.

“To hypocrisy, and committing sins!”

“Hell yeah.”

Travis downed the shot, and fuck, he could definitely switch out the tequila for these, like all the time. It was sweet and tart, with a vaguely fruity flavor. The vodka was still prevalent, but it didn’t burn too bad.

“How was it?”

“Pretty fucking good.”

“Now for our weird shit!”

Travis rolled his eyes and smiled, grabbing his shot of Alice in Wonderland and clinking it against Sal’s, making sure not to spill any of it. He closed his eyes, bracing himself, and downed it. Damn, not bad. Not as appealing as the White Gummy Bear, but that was the kind of drink you wouldn’t notice you’d had seven shots of until you threw up on the dance floor, so perhaps it wasn’t the best thing to measure against. He opened his eyes to see Sal visibly cringing, the lower straps of his mask undone.

“Not a fan?”

“Okay, maybe crazy wasn’t the best way to go.”

“I didn’t think it was half bad.”

“Yeah, I am not crazy about that, at all. Too strong.”

“That was strong for you?”

“I don’t do the whole bar thing very much.”

“Sal, is this your first time doing shots?”

“In a bar, yeah. I’ve done them at parties, mostly hated it. Shared a bottle of Irish Cream with Larry after we paid one of the college kids in the apartments do get it for us, that wasn’t bad. I only got my fake id a month ago, Ash’s had hers for a while, so she’s taken me out to a couple of bars, gay and straight, so far. She’s more of a cocktail kind of person, so I’ve mostly just gotten whatever she’s gotten.”

“Oh, we can get cocktails if you want, I don’t mind. This place does a pretty good Sangria.”

“Nah, I like the idea of doing shots, I just didn’t like that one.”

“I think I know what you’d like.”

Travis quickly got Benny’s attention, and she waltzed over.

“Hey kids, how were your shots? Liking the Alice in Wonderland?”

“Not really our speed, Ben. I think we’re going to go for a round of Jolly Ranchers.”

“Ooh, you two gonna get wasted?”

“Perhaps, perhaps not.”

“Sounds lit, coming right up.”

Benny cleared their glasses and headed off, and Sal turned to face him.

“What did she ask if we were gonna get wasted, dude, what did you order?”

“The Jolly Rancher is the thing to order if you want to get wasted, because you can knock those things back like you’re doing shots of soda. Doesn’t taste like alcohol at all, really sweet.”

“Oh, nice. This is going to be a fun evening.”

“I am going to show you what doing shots is all about.”

“I look forward to that.”

“Didn’t you come here with Ash? I wonder where she is?”

“It’s pretty normal for the two of us to lose each other, she’s always out looking for someone to flirt with and/or fuck. She’ll send me a text if she ends up going home with someone, if not, we always meet up around eight-ish just to see where we’re at in the night.”

“It’s good that you two have a system.”

“Yeah, Ash looks after me when we go out, she’s like a big sister. I remember when we first started clubbing, she’d stick by my side the whole night to make sure I was okay. Now she’s more relaxed about it, which is good, because she loves looking for hookups and that’s not really my thing as much.”

“I can’t say I’m not totally into hookup culture, but it gets kinda awkward when you have to ask the other person if we can do it at their place every time, plus I’m always a little afraid I’ll get murdered and then my name will show up in the paper as what’s on my fake ID, but everyone from school and church will recognize me and my father will disown me. Which, I mean, I won’t be able to care if that happens if I’m dead, but still.”

“That’s fair. I mostly stay away from it because people are gonna want to know what’s under the mask, and as soon as they see, all of my fuckability goes away. Not that I’d really want to show anyone, anyway. I’ve only shown one person, besides my dad.”

“You really don’t think anyone would have a thing for you if they saw?”

“Trav, I don’t know what you think I look like, but it’s pretty fucking rough under this piece of plastic.”

“I don’t know, I’d still think you’re cute no matter what."

Sal paused, looking at him with those beautiful blue eyes, and fuck, what had he just said? Maybe he could blame it on the alcohol. He could feel the embarrassment flushing his face, his teenage crush coming back to haunt him. Just then, he caught sight of Benny holding their drinks a short distance away, appearing to just be watching their conversation with fond amusement. He locked eyes onto her, and she appeared to have gotten his message, bringing them their shots.

“Two shots of the Jolly Rancher, the crowned king of getting wasted.”

Travis tried to pretend he was a normal human being and not dying inside from nerves.

“Thanks, Ben. Well, shall we try this and see if it’s any better?”

Sal looked as if they weren’t entirely sure whether or not they’d hallucinated the last five minutes, and then nodded.

“Hell yeah.”

The two of them clinked together their shot glasses and downed the drinks. It was almost too sweet for Travis, he could barely taste the alcohol, just fruitiness from the syrup. But he supposed that wasn’t too bad of a thing to be complaining about.

“So, what do you think of that one?”

“I am thinking that is definitely going to be our shot of the night.”

“I’m glad we can agree on that. Hey Ben, keep them coming!”

“Alright Bailey, you just tell me when you two are done!”

She rolled her eyes a little when she said his fake name, making him realize that Sal had been referring to him by his real one the whole night. It wasn’t like he hadn’t told them to, but he’d have some explaining to do to Benny next time he came to drink alone. Luckily enough, she didn’t mention it.

The shots came and were drunk, and soon enough, the two of them were too. Travis had been getting braver, and thus, flirtier, as more and more alcohol entered his system, and Sal had started flirting back. The two of them were laughing at stupid jokes, telling each other bad pickup lines, one of Sal’s made Travis choke on his shot, making them laugh even harder. Sal was a lightweight, and Travis loved to over-perform how drunk he was, so only a little while later, the two of them had devolved into near-complete nonsense.

“Hey, hey, hey, Sally. Guess what?”

“What, what, what, Travvy?”

Sal giggled at the little nickname they’d given Travis.

“We’re waaaaaaaasted.”

Travis joined in Sal’s giggling, and Sal’s eyes widened. They reached up and poked his cheek.

“Travvy, you have dimples! Oh my gooooood that’s so cute! How have I not noticed?”

Travis covered his cheeks with his hands and stuck his tongue out.

“Nooooo, they’re dumb. I don’t like them.”

Sal mimicked his motion, covering the cheeks of their mask.

“They’re cute, shut your dumb mouth! Adorable!”

“Nooo.”

“Yes!”

“Woah, wait, Sally, your hands… they’re tiny!”

Travis slowly held one of his hands up to Sal’s face, where their hands were still on their cheeks. Sal intercepted the motion by putting their palm flat up against his, to reveal that their hands were quite a bit smaller than his.

“Hehe, tiny… so cute! I can bend my fingers over yours!”

Travis lifted his other hand up, and Sal repeated the action, to which he bent his fingers over theirs and smiled. They stayed like that for a moment before Sal cautiously intertwined their fingers with his, and started gently swinging their arms. Travis hummed in satisfaction, letting his arms swing with theirs. A stray thought crossed his mind that if he thought he hadn’t thought he’d loved Sal Fisher before, he definitely loved him now.

“I like you. I like you a lot. You’re just… so nice. So nice, and pretty, and cool…”

Sal tilted their head, almost letting it fall onto their shoulder.

“I like you too. I’m glad you like me. I’m glad you like yourself enough to like me.”

“Hmm?”

“You were sad all the time, and now you’re happy sometimes, and that’s good. It’s going to be even cooler when school is done and you can be happy all the time!”

“But what if I can’t be happy all the time?”

“You’re right, no one can be happy all the time. Just happy most of the time. More happy than sad.”

“Yeah, that’s going to be nice. I don’t know what I’m going to do after school though.”

“It’s okay, you’ll figure it out. I’m gonna hunt ghosts! I mean, I already do, but I’ll hunt ghosts even more!”

“You hunt ghosts? That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever heard! I don’t know whether or not I believe in ghosts, but I’ll believe in them for you.”

“The apartment complex where I live is full of ghosts. I’ll have to take you to see them sometime! There’s this one I talk to sometimes, her name is Megan and she’s a little kid, she’s really nice. You’ll like her. She’s got purple hair like your bartender friend.”

“Cool, I’d love to meet a real ghost!”

“You can join our ghost hunting team once you get to know everybody!”

“I hope they like me… they only know me as mean and dumb.”

“I’ll make them like you! You’re a good person and if they don’t see that they’re the dumb ones and they need a talking to!”

“Don’t make your friends mad because of me… I’m not worth it.”

“Of course you are! You’re worth a lot of things! People just don’t see that because they’re dumb!”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, I’ll show you that you’re worth all of the things!”

“You’re so nice… I know I already said I like you, but I do, I like you so much.”

“I like you too! Also so much!”

Travis smiled and Sal moved one of their intertwined hands to poke at his dimple, causing both of them to break out in giggles.

“Hey Sal, it’s eight o’clock! Ooh, who’re you with… wait a fucking second…”

Travis’ head whipped to the familiar voice, and there was Ash, studying him and trying to figure out if she knew him like she thought she did. Fear coursed through him, but Sal seemed much less concerned. They tried to wave at her, but their hands were still intertwined with Travis’, so they kind of just waved their arm.

“Hey, Ash! Don’t worry, he’s super cool! And nice! And cool! And we’re waaaaaasted!”

Ash opened and closed her mouth, looking at him suspiciously. He could tell that she was also drunk, though probably not as much as they were, seeing as he thought he would fall over if he tried to stand up.

“Wait. No. You’re. What’s your name?”

Travis just stared at her like a deer in headlights, his tongue heavy in his mouth. He wasn’t sure he could say anything if he wanted to just then.

“Ash, stop being silly! Don’t you recognize Travis? He’s nice now, and he says sorry for the dumb stuff he did.”

“What the ever-loving fuck. What… Sal, what the fuck? He made our lives hell for like two years!”

She turned to Travis, who felt like he was going to pass out.

“You don’t just get to say sorry for that! What the hell?”

Travis took a deep breath and tried to focus on the situation, sober himself up a little. He wasn’t as drunk as he’d been acting, could take his alcohol a lot better than Sal. He’d just been letting himself go, and now he had to reel himself back in. He let the panic of the situation bring him to reality a little, but not completely freak him out, as he thought of how he’d treated Sal and their friends. He was despicable, disgusting, guilty, such a hypocrite that he couldn’t stand it. His self-imposed scars from that time period were burning, and he was going to lose himself, until he felt Sal give his hands a little squeeze and was grounded again. He took a deep breath and hesitated several times before speaking, wanting to make sure the words came out the way he wanted them to.

“I, I, I know how I behaved in middle school and the beginning of high school was really shitty, and you guys didn’t deserve that. I was dealing with a lot of internalized and external homophobia and didn’t know how to deal with my own gayness, was raised to believe it was wrong and terrible, so I took it out on the people who were happy with being that way, because I was jealous, and that wasn’t fair. You guys were such good friends, and I wanted that so badly. But I couldn’t have it, so I got bitter and acted like a prick. I really regret how I acted back then. I don’t expect you to forgive me.”

Ash stared at him as if he had just admitted to being from a different dimension, and after he’d said his piece, zoned out so hard that it seemed like she passed through a couple of her own. When she returned to reality, she seemed confused, and a little out of it. 

“Okay, that took me way too fucking long to process, but that’s probably because I’m really fucking drunk. But shit, man, fuck, that makes a lot of sense. If you had tried to befriend us before you got all bitter and shit, you could’ve been in the group. I mean, fuck, I don’t know what to feel right now, but I wish we could’ve avoided all of that shittiness between us and you.”

“There was no way we could’ve been friends back then, the church would’ve found out somehow and my father would’ve punished me. He has eyes everywhere, it’s like he’s a fucking cult leader, he would’ve known if I started hanging out with other gays. Even when I first stopped treating you guys like shit, and just ignoring you, he questioned me about what I thought of you.”

He felt Sal’s thumbs stroking calming patterns into his still intertwined hands and softly smiled.

“Oh, shit. That must really fucking suck.”

“Yeah, but at least I have somewhere where I can escape. I’ve been coming here since the fall, have it all worked out to where my father thinks I’m at work, and my work says it’s my day off.”

“Damn. I feel kinda bad, I mean, we weren’t the greatest to you back then either.”

“Don’t. You were only like that because I was.”

“Maybe we both sucked a little back then, but I’d say that we can put this all behind us, let the past stay in the past. I forgive you for the shit you did back then.”

Sal had stayed silent throughout his conversation with Ash, and he couldn’t tell if they were deliberately studying the two of them, or just staring off into space, until they spoke.

“Ash, what do you think of Travis joining our group? We’d still have to convince Larry and Todd, but I think we could do it.”

“Sure, as long as Larry doesn’t murder him for hanging out with us, though I think we can get through to him. But, man, didn’t you say your dad will like, actually kill you if you hang out with us?”

Travis took a deep breath, he’d been trying not to think about it for the whole night.

“Yeah, but fuck it. I only have a couple months until I’m free from him, I may as well spend them happily.”

“As long as nothing too bad happens, I’d say that’s a pretty good philosophy. Welcome to the team.”

“Heh, glad to be joining.”

“Yay, everyone’s getting along! Trav, are you free tomorrow? We could tackle Larry and Todd then.”

“I mean, as long as I can figure out a suitable excuse for my father so he’ll let me out of the house, then sure.”

“We could exchange phone numbers! And then you could text me if you can come!”

“Yeah, we could. I don’t know what your name should be in my phone, though, it can’t be your real one. I don’t know if he still looks through it.”

“How about Blue? And Ash can be Purple!”

“That works… pretty well, actually. I don’t think he’ll question it.”

“Hell yeah!”

Travis smiled at Sal’s drunken enthusiasm, god, they were so cute, and then noticed Ash looking at the two of them, smirking.

“Alright, I’m gonna say it, are you two a fucking thing or not? You’ve been attached at the hands ever since I got here, and you’re making my gaydar go off.”

Sal giggled a little while Travis blushed.

“I like him a lot, and he likes me a lot!”

“Damn, Travis, how wasted did you get them?”

“I didn’t realize how much better I can handle my alcohol than them… what got me pleasantly drunk but still able to hold normal conversations if the situation calls for it, gets them quite wasted.”

“To be fair, this is hilarious to watch.”

“I’m not really sure what we are, but I guess something? Sal, are we something?”

“Everything is something! But yeah, we can be something.”

“Alright, then we’re something.”

“Well, you two are fucking adorable, let’s just hope Larry doesn’t murder you tomorrow.”

The three of them talked for ages, occasionally ordering more drinks, usually just for Ash and Travis, as Sal was definitely wasted enough already. They were adorable and amusing to watch being that drunk. He explained to Ash how they met on the dance floor, and Sal even “kissed” the fading, barely visible in the dim light, bruise on his cheek by pressing the plastic lips of their mask to his cheek, gently enough that it didn’t hurt, which made him smile and blush. He didn’t exactly explain where it had come from, but he could tell Ash picked up on it. Eventually, it was late enough that Travis had to sober up and head home so that he could pretend he was just at work. They exchanged phone numbers and heartfelt goodbyes, and Travis left the club still tipsy, but with two new friends, and the promise of more to come. The bus ride home was quiet, the neighbor’s yard dark as always when he wiped off his makeup with a pack of wipes he kept in the drawstring bag along with his normal clothes, the used wipes to be put in his backpack to throw away at school, just in case. He entered his home, answered a few cursory questions about work from his father, and flopped on his bed, a smile on his face. For once, he was looking forward to the days in between Fridays.


End file.
